


Unhurried

by lockheed_london



Series: Unexpected [3]
Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-28
Updated: 2013-04-28
Packaged: 2017-12-09 20:18:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/777585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lockheed_london/pseuds/lockheed_london
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This time around, things are different.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unhurried

**Author's Note:**

> The final instalment of the ‘ _Unexpected_ ’ trilogy, all in response to [this prompt](http://cabinpres-fic.dreamwidth.org/4885.html?thread=8640533#cmt8640533) on the Cabin Pressure prompt meme on Dreamwidth.

Martin, Douglas mused, watching him while he was utterly absorbed in the final chapter of his book, was extraordinary. It was purely by accident that Douglas had discovered Martin was an omega but, now that he had, he couldn’t imagine life without him.

Which wasn’t to say that it had all been roses from the start, however. It had taken Martin some time to relax enough with Douglas to let himself go through heat with him, but at last he had and the memory of their first time – with Martin frantic for Douglas’ touch – still had the power to warm his blood.

Douglas had encouraged him to linger at the flat for a couple of days after heat ended, thanks to the deep-rooted alpha urge to keep his omega close in the aftermath, and Martin had indulged him. But after two days Martin had insisted that he had van jobs booked, and that he felt downright _lazy_ to be doing nothing, and Douglas had reluctantly let him go. He’d almost offered to come with Martin, so loathe was he to let Martin out of his sight, but he bit his tongue against the words that rose in his mouth and watched him drive away.

He ought to have listened to his instincts. He sent Martin a text message that evening and received only a brief reply, and then he heard nothing more for two days. Douglas didn’t press the matter, reasoning that perhaps Martin wanted some space to mull things over: an omega’s first heat with a partner was no small thing, after all. But the next time he saw Martin was the following day on a trip to Córdoba, where he was oddly quiet, and the next time they were alone together in private – in Douglas’ hotel room that evening, the flight deck hardly counted – then Martin had no sooner closed the door behind himself before he started in with ‘Well, I suppose this is it,’ and ‘It’s all for the best, really…’

Douglas listened in bafflement for a while before interrupting with ‘Are you breaking up with me?’

Martin hesitated and flushed incriminatingly before saying ‘Yes,’ and then ‘No,’ and ‘Well, I just thought,’ and it had taken twenty minutes – longer than Douglas had ever thought Martin could hold out under questioning – before he snapped ‘Well my heat’s over so that’s it, isn’t it!’

Douglas was dumbstruck for a long moment, unsure how to address such mad logic, but when Martin made to turn and leave he found his voice and darted across the room to catch hold of the sleeve of Martin’s jacket.

‘What the hell… Do you think I spent all that time courting you just so that I could fuck you through your heat and then ditch you?’

‘I… well…’

As Martin grew increasingly flustered, Douglas knew he’d hit the mark.

‘You _idiot_ ,’ he growled, giving into the temptation of too many days spent carefully respecting Martin’s apparent need for space and pulling him into his arms. Any doubts he might have had about Martin’s real feelings vanished when Martin all but melted against him, rubbing his cheek against Douglas’ shoulder as he clutched fistfuls of Douglas’ uniform jacket.

‘It’s only because you’re new at this that I’m not tearing a strip off you right now,’ Douglas growled mock-threateningly, even as he squeezed Martin more tightly. ‘Constructing theories in your head is utterly nonsensical when you could always have tried, say, just _asking_ what I was thinking.’

‘I know,’ Martin said, leaning into Douglas. ‘I just thought… well, I don’t know what I thought.’

‘Clearly you weren’t thinking at all,’ Douglas said, but without any real rancour. It was difficult to be truly annoyed when he had Martin warm against him, tension slowly leaching out of him. And it was such a very _Martin_ thing to do: to push something away before the world took it off him.

They slept in Douglas’ room that night, _just_ slept. Both chastely dressed in T-shirts and boxers, Douglas curled his body around Martin and closed his eyes in contentment as Martin gave a little sigh and leaned back against him. Douglas woke up the following morning to find Martin sprawled half-on top of him, and felt more well-rested than he had since before Martin’s heat.

Martin’s second heat had been difficult for both of them. It had come unexpectedly and Martin had been almost frantic in his denial that it was going to happen right up until the day before it actually started, leaving Douglas to grit his teeth at the unmistakable change in Martin’s scent and fight the urge to snarl at any alpha who showed too much concern for Martin’s health.

The third one, however…

At this point Martin finished his book, closed it with a contented sigh, and glanced over to find Douglas watching him.

‘What?’ he asked, and before Douglas could reply or even hold out a hand to him he unfolded himself from his chair and came over to join Douglas on the sofa, tucking himself under the arm Douglas draped over his shoulders.

 _That_ was the difference: for this, Martin’s third heat, he was infinitely more relaxed in the run-up to it. He was almost unrecognisable as the tense, pinched individual who had stubbornly brushed off all of Douglas’ solicitude last time; instead he revelled in it. He sought Douglas out for physical affection, appreciatively devoured anything and everything Douglas made for him, and almost purred when Douglas stripped him out of his various well-worn T-shirts to give him a back massage.

And Douglas wouldn’t be prepared to swear that Martin’s pheromones hadn’t changed, on a deep and subconscious level. He didn’t remember finding Martin quite this appealing in either of his previous pre-oestrus periods, but this time Douglas couldn’t get enough of him. He had made a rich chocolate dessert that night, and it was only partly because Martin’s body needed to store extra calories for the coming days; mostly it was for the expression of sheer, sensual bliss on Martin’s face as he ate it and the noises he made as he sucked it off his fork.

Only just last night their friendly bickering over the remote control had developed into a mock-wrestling match, and by the end Douglas found that he was on top of Martin, one knee spreading his thighs apart while he gripped Martin’s wrists and held them above his head. But Martin didn’t seem to care that he’d lost their match. On the contrary: he was limp and quiescent, his wrists pliant in Douglas’ hands, licking his lips and staring up at Douglas with heavy-lidded eyes. Douglas leaned down to kiss him – _not_ kissing Martin when he looked like that was never even a possibility – and let his weight rest on Martin’s groin, rocking their hips together between Martin’s splayed thighs.

Douglas pulled back only when Martin arched against him and spread his legs wider in invitation. His face burned. Good God, was he honestly thinking of fucking Martin on the sofa, with nothing but spit to ease the way, mere days before his heat was due to start? This was exactly the time when omegas were advised to rest and take things easy, and when sex was supposed to be a gentle, loving affair that wouldn’t exact too much of a toll on their bodies for the days ahead. But Martin looked unbearably tempting, lying there like that, and a quick glance down confirmed that he was most of the way hard inside his pyjama bottoms, and so Douglas slid down the sofa and tugged Martin’s pyjamas down enough to take him in his mouth, one spit-slick finger rubbing firmly over his hole as Martin clawed at the sofa cushions and his knees squeezed Douglas’ ribs.

Afterwards, when Martin had come and then tugged Douglas up to kiss the taste of himself out of Douglas’ mouth while jerking him off, Douglas stripped out of his T-shirt to clean them both up. He resisted a little when Martin tried to pull him down on top of him, but Martin insisted and so Douglas lay with his head on Martin’s stomach, listening idly to the rumbles and gurgles of his digestive system while Martin carded his fingers through Douglas’ hair.

‘What?’ Martin repeated, nudging Douglas and jerking him back to the present moment, to Martin pressed closely against his side and the book in his hand.

‘Nothing,’ Douglas said, closing his book one-handed and laying it aside. ‘I was just thinking how marvellously tactile you are.’

‘Mmm.’ Martin hummed in pleasure and shuffled around until he could drape a leg over both of Douglas’. ‘It’s… nice. I don’t know what it is about it but I like it.’ He flushed, and added quickly ‘Not that I don’t like it normally, I just mean that these past few days it’s been, God, like an itch that I can’t scratch.’

‘It’s biology,’ Douglas said, resting a hand on Martin’s knee. ‘Can’t argue with it.’

Not that Martin hadn’t tried in the past. And even just the other day he’d accepted Carolyn’s demand for the pair of them to fly to Moscow, overruling Douglas’ protests by pointing out that if the choices were sit around dying of boredom or over-exerting himself in the days before his heat then he’d take over-exertion any time.

‘You’re different too,’ Martin said idly, watching Douglas’ thumb stroking circles on his knee. ‘I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you’re more careful than you usually are.’

‘Well. Much as I enjoy our verbal sparring matches,’ Douglas turned his head to press a kiss to Martin’s hair, inhaling the warm, rich, pheromone-laden scent of an omega in pre-oestrus, and feeling a wash of affection for him ‘this is rather nice too.’

‘Mmm,’ Martin said in agreement, and closed his eyes as he rested his head against Douglas’ shoulder. For a long moment Douglas thought he was going to fall asleep right there, but at last Martin stirred himself.

‘ ‘m off to bed,’ he said, through a yawn. ‘Coming?’

Douglas glanced at the remaining pages of his book. ‘In a bit. I want to finish these few chapters.’

Martin murmured his acknowledgement and dragged himself off the sofa. It wasn’t even ten o’clock, but Douglas knew from past experience that tiredness was one of the symptoms of approaching heat and Martin – with his two jobs, one of which was very physically demanding – always seemed extra-susceptible to it.

Douglas hadn’t intended to be much later than Martin but the remainder of his book took longer than he had anticipated and he was surprised, upon closing it, to see that it was after eleven. Martin was sure to be dead to the world, but even so Douglas moved quietly as he locked the front door and brushed his teeth before heading to the bedroom.

Sure enough Martin didn’t so much as stir when Douglas entered and he undressed in the dark, hanging his clothes over the back of a chair by feel. It was only when he climbed into bed that Martin woke with a gasp.

‘It’s just me,’ Douglas murmured at once; he heard a rustle of bedclothes and the next moment Martin’s hand landed on his waist. Martin was deliciously warm and Douglas groaned a little in sensual bliss as Martin rolled closer to tangle Douglas’ cold feet with his own warmer ones.

‘I didn’t mean to wake you,’ Douglas said gently, as Martin snuffled and burrowed farther against his chest. Martin was almost boiling, his skin the slightest bit damp with sleep-sweat, and Douglas hugged him and soaked up his warmth greedily.

‘ ‘s fine,’ Martin said sleepily, as he nuzzled Douglas’ chest and squirmed closer, apparently unsatisfied with their current proximity.

Douglas turned on his side and settled them against each other, raising his eyebrows involuntarily when Martin’s genitals pressed against his hip. Instead of being small and soft with sleep, Martin was almost obscenely hot and hard and his breath caught when his erection pushed against Douglas’ hip.

‘I’m especially sorry to wake you when you’re clearly having such _stimulating_ dreams,’ Douglas purred, and Martin arched a little.

‘It was about you,’ he murmured, and Douglas stroked his back.

‘Was it now. And what was I doing?’

‘You were fucking me,’ Martin said, his hips rolling and pushing lazily against Douglas, as though he couldn’t quite decide whether he wanted to get off or fall back to sleep. ‘Slowly. I was on top of you and you were in me, and everything was slow and warm and… oh, it was wonderful. You were so gentle, but you were driving me out of my mind.’

Douglas rolled onto his back. ‘Oh I was, was I?’

With Martin so pliant with sleep, it was an easy matter to gather him in his arms and bring him with him until Martin was stretched out on top of him, his face buried in Douglas’ neck while his hips thrust with more purpose. Douglas cupped his hands over the curve of Martin’s arse and tugged at him gently, encouraging him into a rhythm.

He felt himself responding: the image Martin had outlined would have been enough to do it even without the added tease of Martin on top of him, warm and smelling gorgeous and just the slightest bit clumsy with desire and the last traces of sleep. Martin moaned softly, breathily, and Douglas murmured encouragement to him as Martin began to thrust harder against him. He paused for a moment to squirm, pulling his knees under him so that he was sitting astride Douglas’ hips, with Douglas’ half-formed erection pressing up against his arse.

‘Slow,’ Douglas breathed into Martin’s hair, as Martin shivered on top of him. He reached down between them to find Martin’s cock, cupping a protective hand over it and encouraging Martin to thrust against his stomach. ‘Easy now, there’s no hurry. Is this like what you were dreaming?’

‘Almost,’ Martin said. ‘Except…’

He paused and sat up, reaching over to the bedside table. Douglas knew what he was looking for: the bottle of lubricant that they sometimes used and that, when Martin was fully in heat, was rendered temporarily redundant. Sure enough after a few breathless, fumbling seconds Martin reached down behind himself and Douglas groaned as warm, slick fingers closed around his cock, working him fully hard in a matter of moments.

‘Martin…’ he began warningly, as Martin shifted further down his body and spread his legs wider in anticipation.

‘Just the head,’ Martin murmured, his voice gorgeously rough from sleep. ‘Please…’

Douglas couldn’t argue, not with Martin arching and sighing like that on top of him, and he settled his hands on Martin’s hips when Martin rubbed the head of his cock back and forth, biting his lip when he felt the sudden give of Martin’s body taking him in.

Martin at least stayed true to his request: once Douglas had sunk a couple of inches inside he sighed, reached down between their bodies, and started to touch himself, nuzzling clumsy kisses along Douglas’ jaw. Douglas brought his knees up and planted his feet flat on the bed, and Martin moaned in his ear as the movement pushed Douglas slightly deeper into him.

‘Come on,’ Douglas growled, half-out of his mind at having Martin hot and slick around him, and not thrusting. It felt as though they were doing something illicit, and Douglas reached down to tangle his fingers with Martin’s as Martin stroked himself. ‘Come on, come _on_ , do it, I want to feel you – oh yes, that’s it, like that. My God, you’re lovely like this…’

Martin had gone tense and shuddering on top of him, and after a few more tugs he gave a half-sob as he came, wet heat spilling over Douglas’ fingers and between their stomachs. It was tantalising to feel Martin squeezing only the top few inches of his cock; Douglas rubbed Martin’s back as he trembled through it, and when he finished Douglas gripped Martin’s arse with both hands.

Martin’s mouth found his ear, making him catch his breath, and he whispered ‘Come in me.’

Douglas groaned, and Martin shifted backwards, until Douglas was fully inside him.

‘ _Martin_ ,’ Douglas said, hands tightening involuntarily. ‘I don’t want to leave you sore.’

‘You won’t, you never do,’ Martin murmured, and Douglas couldn’t find the breath to explain that fucking Martin outside of heat was one thing but that he usually refrained from penetrative sex with pre-oestrus omegas out of consideration for them. But Martin wanted it, and he’d never been able to deny him anything.

‘I don’t regret waiting until my heat for our first time together,’ Martin said, ‘but sometimes I wonder what our first time would have been like if I hadn’t been in heat.’ He shifted in Douglas’ grasp, a slight rock of hips that forced a noise out of Douglas’ throat.

‘I think it would have been like this,’ he continued, squirming a little more and tightening around Douglas’ cock. ‘I’d have been so tight, and so nervous, but you would have been so patient with me, and taken such care of me.’

‘Good God,’ Douglas ground out. Usually Martin wasn’t one for talking in bed, restraining himself more to gasps and moans, but the cover of darkness had obviously loosened some of his inhibitions and the pictures he conjured up made Douglas’ balls tighten.

‘Just imagine us,’ Martin said. ‘Me on top of you, wanting it but so nervous about it, and you desperate to come but not wanting to hurt me.’

Douglas moaned. He was so close, his balls heavy against the base of his cock, and as Martin shifted on top of him Douglas gave in to the temptation to tighten his hands and lift his hips and start thrusting into Martin, tucking his face into the curve of Martin’s shoulder to inhale his scent–

He gritted his teeth as he came, fingers digging into Martin’s flesh and hips jerking involuntarily, and was vaguely aware of Martin murmuring encouragement in his ear, whisper-soft and intimate.

‘Christ,’ Douglas said, when he’d got his breath back. ‘My God, what you do to me.’

He felt Martin’s lips on his cheek and turned his head for a proper kiss, continuing until his softening cock slipped out of Martin’s body and made them both gasp.

‘You’re such a bad influence,’ Douglas murmured.

Martin laughed.

‘You’re so careful with me,’ he retorted. ‘I’m not made of glass, I’m not going to _break_.’

He slithered off Douglas and grabbed a couple of tissues to clean their stomachs, before lying next to him with a contented sigh.

‘Don’t you want to…’ Douglas trailed off as his hand slid down to Martin’s arse, close to where he knew Martin would still be wet and perhaps just the slightest bit tender.

‘No,’ Martin murmured, sounding already most of the way asleep again. ‘I like feeling it, feeling what you’ve done to me.’

‘Well then,’ was all Douglas could find to say, settling Martin against him, and he drifted off to sleep with one hand splayed possessively in the small of Martin’s back.

***

Douglas had been sure that that signalled the start of Martin’s heat; it had been several days now since his scent changed, several days of Douglas standing too close to him every chance he got and fighting the urge to say something snappish to other alphas who ventured into Martin’s personal space. He had been sure that the previous night’s display had been the start of things and that he would be woken early by Martin the following morning, fretful and desperate for him.

But Martin was his usual self, sleeping late and curling close to Douglas for nothing more than a chaste kiss when he awoke. He agreed eagerly when Douglas suggested American pancakes for breakfast, without the slightest hint of the vague nausea that typically manifested itself at the start of heat. He was content to linger with a book on the sofa all morning – having two time-consuming jobs meant that free time was a novelty that Martin clearly hadn’t tired of yet – but after lunch he stretched, declared that he felt lazy, and went out to change the oil in his van.

It was odd. Douglas would have suspected the pair of them of miscalculating, if it wasn’t for the fact that Martin had been looking and smelling like an omega in pre-oestrus for over two days now. He’d heard of omegas skipping a cycle if they were under exceptional stress, but never of an occasion where this preliminary stage lasted so long. But Martin seemed happy and healthy enough, and so Douglas let it go.

At least, he thought he’d let it go. Because the evening of the following day – when Martin’s heat _still_ hadn’t started – Martin laughed when Douglas shooed him away from doing the washing up, and returned to the sink to pick up a tea towel and start drying.

‘You know what you’re doing?’ he said conversationally, as Douglas scowled pointedly at him. ‘You’re _hovering_.’

‘I am not,’ Douglas said, taking the tea towel out of Martin’s hands to catch him around the waist and steer him towards the sofa.

‘You _really_ are,’ Martin told him, grinning, and pivoted him neatly so that Douglas was the one sitting on the sofa.

Before Douglas could move or protest, Martin sank down to sit astride his thighs and Douglas subsided, hands resting on Martin’s hips. Martin looked at him curiously.

‘You almost had a fit when I suggested going out for a walk in the park this afternoon,’ Martin said. ‘You’ve barely let me lift a finger all day. And for days now you’ve not,’ he hesitated, flushing a little, but continued with visible effort, ‘fucked me; last night was the first time in ages and God, I want it so much but you keep distracting me with other stuff. Is what’s coming… is it really that noticeable to you?’

Douglas sighed. ‘I’d rather have this conversation in a slightly different position. Here…’

With some rearranging he got them settled on the sofa, his back resting against the arm and Martin settled between his legs and leaning back against him. Douglas would never admit it but this was by far his favourite position in which to sit with Martin – the solid weight of him against Douglas’ chest, and the scent of him so close – but judging by the ease with which Martin agreed, admitting it aloud would only serve to confirm what he already knew.

‘Yes,’ he admitted reluctantly. ‘Yes, it’s really that noticeable. It might be that I’m more attuned to you, I don’t know. But what stage you’re in makes a difference to my mood.’

It was true. For days now Douglas had been feeling vaguely tense and snappish, uneasy whenever he wasn’t in Martin’s company. It was only a mild feeling, but Martin’s unusually prolonged cycle was taking its toll.

‘That’s interesting,’ Martin said thoughtfully, running a hand idly along one of Douglas’ forearms where it was wrapped around him. ‘I never thought about the effect that this stage has on alphas.’

‘No reason why you should,’ Douglas shrugged. ‘But it happens. Comes with the territory, I’m afraid.’

‘It’s a nice territory.’ Martin twisted round far enough to smile at him. ‘I think I’ll keep it.’

***

As always when it involved sex, Martin got his way in the end. Although it wouldn’t be true to their relationship if it didn’t involve some slightly devious tactics.

The morning after their conversation, Douglas was reading the newspaper at the kitchen table. They had nowhere they had to be, since Martin had decided not to take any moving jobs in the days prior to his heat, and he was sitting at the kitchen table still in his T-shirt and pyjama bottoms, idly flipping through the pages while he mentally compiled a shopping list for his trip to the supermarket that afternoon.

He could hear the faint sounds of Martin leaving the bedroom and making his way to the bathroom; the shower started up a moment later and a curl of pleasure made him smile. It was charmingly domestic to sit here listening to the sounds of his omega moving about the flat, and thinking about the food he’d need to buy to keep them supplied through Martin’s heat. Some alphas were cut out for the single life but Douglas discovered long ago that he wasn’t one of them and he read on peacefully, looking up only when Martin’s footsteps eventually approached the kitchen.

‘Hello.’

He smiled at Martin when he entered: Martin had pulled on a pair of Douglas’ pyjama bottoms that rode low on his hips. It was an endearing sight at the best of times but now, with Martin’s heat so close, Douglas had a thrill of pure possessiveness at the sight of his omega wrapped up in his clothes and couldn’t even care about the fact that, judging from the smile on his face, Martin was well aware of the effect it had on him.

‘Morning,’ Martin said, before responding to Douglas’ outstretched hand and coming to stand next to him. His hair curled damply, and when he got close enough to touch then Douglas looped an arm around Martin’s hips and drew him in so he could bury his face in the clean-smelling skin of Martin’s stomach.

‘Did you sleep well?’ Douglas said, speaking the words against Martin’s skin and feeling Martin’s hands reaching down to card gently through his hair.

‘I did.’

Douglas looked up, to find Martin smiling. ‘What do you fancy for breakfast?’

Douglas had already had coffee and a slice of toast, which would see him through to lunchtime quite happily, but experience had demonstrated that Martin’s appetite tended to double during pre-oestrus.

‘Mmm, anything’s fine,’ Martin said vaguely. He seemed to be in no hurry to move away and make food, and Douglas tightened his arm around Martin’s hips. ‘What are you reading?’

‘Oh, it’s a review of a new play that’s opened in London. I thought we might go down to see it, if you’re interested.’

Martin made a noise of agreement, adding ‘Can I see?’

Douglas leaned back from the table and gestured. He was hoping that Martin would sit in his lap while he read, although he refrained from pulling at him, knowing that Martin didn’t like to be manhandled. But he wasn’t expecting Martin to sit down and then _squirm_ , writhing around and making himself comfortable until he was straddling Douglas’ thighs. He braced his forearms on the table and leaned forward to read, while Douglas gripped Martin’s hips and rested his cheek against the smooth, warm expanse of Martin’s back.

‘It sounds good,’ Martin said after a while, and Douglas hummed his agreement while planting a soft kiss on the wing of Martin’s left shoulder blade.

Martin took a breath and shifted a little.

‘What else is on?’

He flipped over the page and shifted again, squirming until the warm weight of him was resting across Douglas’ groin and Douglas bit his lip. Despite the sex last night he could feel himself responding to Martin’s proximity, and he squeezed Martin’s hips lightly as he started to get hard. It had felt so good last night, Martin writhing and begging for Douglas inside him, languid with sleep and desire. But Martin was supposed to be taking it easy, and so Douglas inhaled deeply through his nose and asked mildly ‘See anything else you like?’

‘Mmm,’ said Martin vaguely. He spread his knees a little wider, planting his feet on the floor to brace himself. ‘You know, I heard a couple of weeks ago that sex is supposed to be good for bringing on heat.’

‘ _What_?’ Douglas stared at the back of Martin’s neck, which was slowly reddening. ‘Who on _earth_ have you been talking to?’

‘No-one,’ Martin muttered. He shifted again. ‘It’s true though, isn’t it?’

‘It’s a widespread belief with a lot of anecdotal evidence in favour of it,’ Douglas said. ‘That’s not accounting for the fact that heat would have happened anyway, and that–’

He cut himself off when Martin made a noise of encouragement and leaned back against his chest. His skin was warm – was it Douglas’ imagination or was he warmer than usual? – and Douglas’ arms came around his waist automatically.

‘We had sex just last night,’ he murmured against Martin’s shoulder. ‘Please don’t tell me it was so terribly unmemorable that you’ve forgotten already.’

‘Of course not.’ Douglas could hear the smile in Martin’s voice. ‘But you won’t f-fuck me–’ Martin stumbled a little over the fricative but managed to get it out, and Douglas stroked the bare skin of his stomach in approval, ‘–not properly, and I know _why_ , I know that you’re being kind and considerate, given what’s coming, and I appreciate it, I really do, but… sometimes it’s all I can think about. You just…bending me over and pounding me hard.’

Martin moved again, hips shifting restlessly, and Douglas suddenly saw what Martin was trying to do: the lack of pyjama top, their positions…

‘Martin, you _flirt_ ,’ he growled, not really annoyed, and Martin laughed, a bright, happy sound.

‘Maybe just a bit.’ He turned his head to grin impishly at Douglas over his shoulder. ‘Is it working?’

‘Yes,’ Douglas replied honestly and Martin tipped his head up for a kiss, resting more of his weight against Douglas’ chest while Douglas splayed his hand over Martin’s stomach.

It started off soft and slow, but then Martin opened his mouth to lick at Douglas’ teeth and Douglas tightened his hands as a surge of want shuddered through him. He drew back for a moment, trying to calm himself, but Martin leaned into him.

‘Touch me,’ he murmured, pressing back against Douglas. ‘Come on, touch me, I want you to.’

Douglas barely needed the encouragement, and he slid his hand down to cup it over Martin’s groin.

‘Like that?’ He spoke the words straight into Martin’s ear, as he squirmed. ‘Is this what you wanted?’

Martin was half-hard under the thin cotton of his pyjama bottoms, and he made a breathless noise as Douglas flattened his palm over his groin.

‘Almost,’ he said. ‘but you… _oh_ … you’re teasing.’

‘Maybe a little,’ Douglas said. ‘Is it working?’

‘Bastard, you know it is,’ Martin said, and Douglas let himself be guided when Martin reached down to grip his wrist and move it. Martin pushed their joined hands under the waistband of his pyjamas and Douglas went willingly, pressing his mouth to the side of Martin’s throat when he felt coarse hair under his fingertips, and running his knuckles along the side of Martin’s cock.

‘Yes,’ Martin gasped. His head tilted back onto Douglas’ shoulder and Douglas took Martin’s cock in his hand, touching a fingertip delicately to the head, partly exposed.

‘ _Oh_.’ Martin shifted in Douglas’ lap. ‘Oh yes, there, that’s… oh God…’

Douglas brought his other hand up, catching Martin’s chin and encouraging him to turn his head so Douglas could kiss him. For several long moments this was enough: feeling Martin’s breaths trembling against his mouth, and playing idly with his cock as it lengthened and firmed in his hand, until Martin gave a little moan and gripped Douglas’ wrist again.

‘What?’ Douglas asked, as Martin pulled his hand away. ‘What is it?’

‘Here,’ Martin murmured. ‘Touch me here.’

He spread his legs a little wider and moved their joined hands down and back, planting his feet more squarely on the floor and lifting his hips slightly, and at the first gentle touch of Douglas’ finger against his hole he caught his breath. Douglas kept his touch gentle, since he had nothing to ease the way, and watched Martin’s throat work as he swallowed.

‘You’re lovely like this,’ Douglas murmured softly, as Martin gasped for breath. ‘Just look at you.’

‘Oh God, fuck me,’ Martin groaned despairingly. ‘Please, _please_ , I want it, I want you to, so much–’

‘Stand up,’ Douglas said at last, pushed beyond his limits by the sound of Martin begging. ‘Here.’

He yanked Martin’s pyjama bottoms down when Martin stood, easing them over his erection and sliding them down his legs and off.

‘No, not quite.’ Douglas caught Martin when he made to sit back down. ‘Lean forward. Put your hands on the table.’

Martin bent forward obediently, widening his legs at Douglas’ tap on his inner thigh, and Douglas slid his hands up to cup Martin’s buttocks. He squeezed them gently, biting a kiss into the flesh of Martin’s arse just to watch him jump, before spreading them apart.

Martin moaned at this, his whole body tense with anticipation, and Douglas leaned in. He took his time teasing Martin, pressing soft, wet kisses everywhere except where Martin so clearly wanted them, and when he eventually dipped down to swipe his tongue over Martin’s hole then Martin made a loud, broken noise.

‘That’s it,’ Douglas murmured. ‘Is this what you want?’

‘Yes,’ Martin groaned, canting his hips back. ‘Oh yes, please, yes–’

Douglas dipped his head again, cutting him off, and Martin squirmed a little, making Douglas tighten his grip to hold him steady. He lapped at Martin, using his thumbs to spread him open as he alternated soft and firm pressure, until Martin was gasping raggedly for breath, and at the first push of Douglas’ tongue into him, soft and sloppy, Martin gave a little wail.

‘Please, oh please, God, let me, I need to–’

Douglas leaned back up, letting go of Martin long enough to work his own pyjama bottoms down and off, and then guided Martin back and down to sit in his lap. Martin did so, albeit on shaky knees, and leaned back against Douglas.

‘I’m so hard for you,’ Douglas growled, pushing his cock against the plush curve of Martin’s arse. ‘God, what you do to me.’

‘Do it,’ Martin gasped. ‘Come on, _now_.’

‘Not quite.’ Douglas gripped Martin’s hips to still him as he squirmed. ‘I don’t want to hurt you, let me just…’

He let go of Martin with one hand to stretch over to the kitchen counter, groping around until he found the bottle of sunflower oil he used for cooking, and flicked the lid off with his thumb before dribbling a bit onto the counter and swiping his fingers through it. Martin leaned forward when Douglas rubbed the back of his wrist gently against the curve at the base of his spine, and arched his back.

‘Easy now, I’ve got you,’ Douglas murmured, sliding his hand lower until he was rubbing at Martin’s hole with oil-slick fingers, and when he pushed more inside Martin groaned loudly.

For a moment Douglas stayed still, loving the soft, silky clutch of Martin’s body, but at last temptation grew and he started to move. He pushed his finger in deeper, dragging heavily over Martin’s prostate and also the small gland above it, currently dormant, that would swell and grow sensitive during his heat and ensure that an omega got at least as much pleasure out of the repeated couplings as the alpha did.

‘Mmm,’ Martin said as Douglas slid his finger out, only to push back in with two. He started to speak, swallowed, and tried again. ‘You don’t need to, you know. You can just… just…’

He twisted and writhed in Douglas’ lap while Douglas twisted his fingers lazily.

‘Oh, I know,’ Douglas said, leaning forward to place a precise kiss on the knob of bone at the top of Martin’s spine, ‘but I’m not sure you realise how gorgeous you are like this.’

He hooked his fingers on the next withdrawal, lingering over the spot that made Martin’s fingers flex and splay against the smooth wood of the tabletop, and listened to Martin’s shuddering inhale.

‘Alright,’ Douglas said eventually, when Martin was rocking on his fingers and chewing on his lip. ‘Alright, here.’

He took his hand away to gather up the rest of the oil on the counter and slick himself up, and then pressed the head of his cock to Martin’s hole, gripping Martin’s hip warningly when he tried to push back.

‘Gently,’ he said, one thumb rubbing caresses against Martin’s skin. ‘Gently now, take your time.’

Slowly Martin sank back against him and Douglas let him, until he was as deep as he could go and Martin’s back was flush against his chest, and Douglas let go of Martin’s hip to wrap both arms around his waist and bury his face in his nape.

‘Oh,’ Martin gasped wetly. ‘Oh God, yes, that’s perfect, right there.’

He caught hold of Douglas’ hand, twining their fingers together, and drew it down between his legs.

‘Touch me,’ he murmured, and Douglas immediately curled his fingers around the thick, solid weight of Martin’s cock. The head was already wet, and Douglas brushed his thumb gently over it and hugged Martin tighter when he shivered.

‘I love that you leak when you get turned on,’ he growled, and thrust upward a little. Martin’s weight was too solid on top of him for him to do much more than push an inch or so deeper but Martin’s resulting noise was _gorgeous_.

‘And I love it when you’re in heat.’ Douglas slid his other hand down to cup Martin’s balls, rolling them gently. ‘Kissing you until you’re wet for me front _and_ back; it’s the most luscious thing I’ve ever seen.’

Martin moaned at this, squirming in his lap and canting his hips back and forth, and Douglas finally took pity on him and started to fuck him in earnest. But beneath Martin’s weight it was difficult to get a good rhythm going, and Martin’s noises had started to sound more frustrated than aroused by the time Douglas panted, ‘Stand up. Put your hands on the table.’

Martin stood, his legs looking gratifyingly wobbly, and Douglas steadied him with his hands on Martin’s hips before standing and kicking his chair back out of the way.

‘Bend down’ he said. Martin had placed his palms flat on the table and Douglas gripped his nape, not pushing but just suggesting: ‘Further.’

Martin went down onto his forearms, and then down again so that his chest was pressed to the table, and Douglas nudged his feet wider while muttering breathless praise to him.

This time, when he took himself in hand and pushed inside, Martin let out a choked sob.

‘Alright,’ Douglas said, running a quelling hand down his back. ‘Come on, then.’

God, _this_ was so much better. He could get a proper rhythm going, fucking Martin with steady, rhythmic thrusts, while Martin’s fingers curled helplessly against the newspaper that he hadn’t bothered to push aside. Douglas could see his face this time as well: Martin had his head twisted to the side so his profile was visible, and Douglas greedily took in the sight of his flushed cheek and the beginnings of sweat at his temple, his open mouth and his eyes squeezed shut. He reached around to touch Martin’s cock and found a drool of precome hanging from the tip; he took it in his palm and used it to slick Martin’s cock as he stroked him.

‘ _Ah._ ’ Martin’s knees almost buckled at this and Douglas quickly slung an arm around his hips, holding him up.

‘You’re close, aren’t you?’ Douglas said. Martin was shuddering, each exhale sounding more and more like a sob, and Douglas gritted his teeth and started to fuck him harder, pounding into him. He began to work the top few inches of Martin’s cock in the rhythm he knew would get him off the fastest: quick but not too much pressure, because Martin got achingly sensitive when he was about to come.

‘Oh God,’ Martin wailed, and Douglas felt the first abbreviated spasm around his cock. ‘Oh God, oh God… oh fuck, I’m _coming_.’

Martin’s skittering hands seized great fistfuls of the newspaper, crumpling and tearing it beyond repair, as his cock started to pulse in Douglas’ hand; Martin’s knees well and truly gave out when he came, and Douglas was forced to tighten the arm around his hips, holding him steady while working his orgasm out of him. Faintly, between Martin’s beautiful, almost anguished noises, Douglas heard the noise of Martin’s come spattering onto the floor tiles, and as soon as Martin had finished he gasped and quickly grabbed Douglas’ wrist.

‘You now,’ he panted, pulling slightly at Douglas’ arm. ‘Come on.’

Douglas planted his hand on the table and squeezed his eyes shut as he continued to fuck Martin. It didn’t take long, not with Martin still trembling and gasping from his orgasm, and gloriously pliant beneath him, and Douglas leaned forward and groaned heavily as he came. Martin clutched at his hand, fumbling his fingers between Douglas’ wet and sticky ones, and gripped tight, holding Douglas’ hand until the last shuddering spasms faded away.

‘Good God,’ Douglas gasped, his legs shaking and gulping for breath. ‘Bloody hell, what you do to me.’

‘Mmm,’ Martin said, sounding almost drugged. His legs wobbled slightly under him and Douglas at once leaned up.

‘Don’t go,’ Martin said at once, his grip on Douglas’ hand tightening.

‘I’m not,’ Douglas said. ‘But you feel like you’re about to fall over. Here.’

With a bit of careful manoeuvring he pulled the kitchen chair back towards him and guided them both to sit down, moving slowly and carefully enough that he stayed inside Martin.

‘Oh,’ Martin sighed blissfully, going boneless once he was seated in Douglas’ lap. His hands came up to pet weakly at the forearm Douglas had wrapped around his waist to steady him. ‘Oh God, that was _wonderful_ , I… oh.’

He gave a deep, contented sigh, which turned into a murmur of complaint when Douglas’ softening cock started to slip out of him. Douglas shushed him, catching his breath at the overstimulation, and stroked Martin’s stomach until, with a last shudder, their bodies separated.

Martin gave a soft hum of pleasure, letting his head tilt back to rest against Douglas’ shoulder, and Douglas turned his head to press a kiss to Martin’s rumpled hair.

‘Are you alright?’ he said. ‘I can’t believe I let you talk me into that, good Lord–’

‘ ‘m _fine_ ,’ Martin cut him off. ‘I’m not made of glass, I’m not going to break.’

He shifted suddenly and Douglas reluctantly unwound his arms from Martin’s waist, but Martin apparently only wanted to stand and turn so that he was facing Douglas before sitting back down astride his legs

‘You don’t have to be so careful with me,’ Martin chided, his voice fond.

Douglas wrapped his arms around Martin’s waist to secure him and concentrated on the flush still on Martin’s throat and chest, suddenly unable to look him in the eye.

‘It’s no more than I’d do for any omega in your condition,’ he said gruffly.

‘I know.’ Martin sounded affectionate, and Douglas looked up to find him smiling. He leaned forward for a kiss, a kiss that Douglas gladly gave him. In contrast to earlier, this one was soft, more breath and lips than teeth, and Martin hummed softly in contentment.

‘Come on, you,’ Douglas said, planting a last kiss on Martin’s flushed mouth, and gripping a handful of his arse. ‘Let me up. I need to go and buy food, since we’re not going to be leaving the flat for the next few days.’

Martin rolled his eyes but got up, his legs still the tiniest bit shaky, Douglas noted with a tiny curl of smugness.

‘That’s assuming it ever actually starts,’ he grumbled.

‘It will,’ Douglas said, smoothing a hand over Martin’s hip. ‘Patience.’

‘You’re a fine one to talk,’ Martin said, walking over to flick the kettle on and rinse out the cafetiere. ‘Don’t think that I haven’t noticed you being all – what?’

Douglas realised he was staring, and cleared his throat.

‘Are you… wouldn’t you like to put some clothes on?’

He sounded a little strained but that was hardly his fault. The long, lovely curve of Martin’s spine was shown off perfectly as he stood at the counter, starting from the soft, short hairs at his nape and sweeping all the way down to the luscious curve of his bum, and Martin suddenly grinned at him wickedly.

‘No, I don’t think I would,’ he said, turning to rest one hip against the counter. ‘There doesn’t seem to be much point until I’ve had a shower – _another_ one – and I thought I’d let you have first shower since you’re going out.’

‘Right,’ Douglas said blankly. His eyes dropped to Martin’s groin, his penis small and soft against his thigh, nothing like the desperate strain of arousal barely half an hour ago. Martin’s chest was still faintly blotchy with the fading flush of sex, and his face had a healthy, post-coital glow to it. He was also biting the corner of his mouth, as though trying not to laugh.

Douglas cleared his throat.

‘Right,’ he repeated. ‘I’ll just… I’ll just go, then.’

He stood up and reached for the kitchen roll, meaning to clean up the smear of oil on the counter and come on the floor, but Martin came over and took it out of his hands.

‘I can do that,’ he said, eyes sparkling, stepping in close enough that Douglas reached for him automatically. ‘Go on, get going.’

‘Alright.’ Douglas pressed a kiss to Martin’s shoulder and forced himself to step away. ‘Any requests?’

‘Something nice,’ Martin said, tearing off a piece of kitchen roll and starting to clean the counter. ‘Surprise me.’

***

Douglas took the opportunity to run a couple of other errands, and he received a text when he arrived at the supermarket - _Peppermint tea. I think things are starting._ \- and frowned slightly. The very early stages of heat involved the omega’s body emptying itself so that nothing would impede the alpha’s sperm reaching the cervix, which translated into vicious stomach cramps and nausea and several generally unpleasant hours, and Douglas got out of the car and resolved to make this as quick as possible so that he could get back home.

Fortunately, at this time on a weekday, it was fairly empty, but even so Douglas had to resist the urge to snarl impatiently when the young alpha at the checkout seemed to take a ridiculously long time about things. He’d glimpsed a few other alphas around the shop who looked equally fraught and short-tempered and guessed that they were in the same position, doing last-minute food shopping while their omegas waited at home. Usually he was more prepared than this, but most of the supplies he’d bought several days ago had gone, when Martin’s heat didn’t start on schedule but dragged on to leave him in the pre-oestrus stage for longer than usual, with unusually increased appetite.

At last he was done, and he arrived home to find Martin curled up on the sofa, a blanket gathered around him.

‘Hello,’ Douglas said, leaning over to drop a kiss on Martin’s forehead and perch on the edge of the sofa. ‘How are you feeling?’

‘I’ve been better,’ Martin grumbled, and Douglas let Martin tuck his face into the crook of his neck and inhale. Martin – with his typical attention to detail – had read up on heat and found that there was limited evidence to show that pheromones from the alpha partner helped alleviate the worse of early oestrus cramps.

‘Just let me put the perishables in the fridge,’ Douglas murmured, dipping his face to nuzzle Martin’s hair, ‘and I’ll be right with you.’

Martin let him go, and Douglas quickly sorted through the carrier bags to put several things in the fridge. Among them was a punnet of strawberries; Martin loved summer fruits and during heat, when food didn’t interest him, Douglas wasn’t above using Martin’s weakness to get him to eat something. He came back into the living room in time to see Martin’s face twisted in discomfort again, and he quickly moved to his side.

‘Fuck,’ Martin groaned, half-sitting up so that Douglas could sit down, and then collapsing back down, his head and shoulders in Douglas’ lap. ‘Ever time this happens I wonder why I thought heat was such a good idea.’

Douglas said nothing, but sank his fingers into Martin’s hair and started to rub at his scalp, focussing on the tension at his nape.

‘I mean, I remember afterwards,’ Martin said, glancing up at him, ‘but just now–’

He cut himself off, tensing again, and Douglas reached down to press hard against the small of Martin’s back.

‘This from the person who once pulled a muscle lifting a chest of drawers that you were sure you could manage on your own.’

‘Oh, shut up,’ Martin groaned, but turned over to bury his face against Douglas’ stomach while Douglas rubbed at his back.

Truth be told, he hated seeing Martin in such discomfort but Martin wouldn’t tolerate anything that he thought was pity and so Douglas held his tongue and just worked his fingers through Martin’s hair and rubbed his back. Having partnered three omegas before Martin, he knew that many of them tended to feel the worst of the cramps in their lower back, and so he massaged the tense muscles in small circles until Martin groaned in relief.

‘Better?’ Douglas asked, and Martin murmured a noise of sleepy affirmation. For long minutes there was no sound other than the faint rustle of Douglas’ hand rubbing at Martin’s back through his T-shirt, and the homely tick of the clock.

‘Did you take a shower?’ Douglas asked quietly, not wanting to wake Martin if he was already asleep, but Martin shook his head.

‘Was going to, but then it started and it didn’t seem worth it.’

He fell silent, his breath hitching as he tensed again, and Douglas pressed harder at the small of his back until he relaxed.

Douglas had been brought up with the very firm ideas that omegas were due a certain amount of deference and care, and even though he knew from past experience that Martin wouldn’t want anything he still couldn’t help shifting slightly and offering ‘Do you want a cup of tea? Or some water? Or–’

‘Nothing.’ Martin shook his head, and the corner of his mouth that Douglas could see was smiling. ‘Thank you.’

He lapsed into silence, and Douglas said nothing more but continued touching him while Martin exhaled a heavy sigh against his stomach.

The cramps seemed to lessen in their intensity and frequency, slowly but surely, until Martin looked up at Douglas and smiled. ‘Thank you. I think that’s done it.’

‘Glad I could help,’ Douglas said. ‘Why don’t you sleep? You look tired.’

Despite having just got up a couple of hours ago Martin’s face was drawn with discomfort and his eyelids sagged.

‘Mmm,’ he agreed, and shifted. ‘You don’t have to stay, if you’ve got things to do.’

‘I’m fine here,’ Douglas said casually, reaching for his book on the coffee table and trying to ignore Martin watching him narrowly. ‘Don’t worry about me.’

It was wonderful to sit here reading, his omega asleep in his lap, and Douglas cupped the back of Martin’s head as he slept. His scent was changing, subtle but unmistakeable, and Douglas felt himself responding to it. He no longer felt quite such an urge to fuss over Martin, now his mind was filled with images of fucking him, of pulling off his pyjama bottoms and shouldering his thighs apart and sinking deep inside him until Martin was crying out with pleasure.

Douglas exhaled sharply through his noise, willing away his half-formed erection. They still had several hours to go yet before it would start properly, since this stage could last anything up to twelve hours, and he tried to force himself to concentrate on his book. It didn’t really work, though, and when Martin woke after half an hour Douglas set it aside.

‘I think I’m going to go and take that shower now,’ Martin said, stretching, and his T-shirt rode up in a way that made Douglas’ mouth flush wet with hunger.

‘Alright,’ Douglas said, hands twitching with the suppressed urge to reach for Martin as he stood, and he stood also.

Reading clearly wasn’t going to hold his attention, and so when Martin went off to the bathroom Douglas wandered into the kitchen. Perhaps doing something that would keep his hands busy but required minimal mental input was the key, and so he got out the ingredients for bread. The fact that Martin loved warm, home-made bread and would eat it when nothing else appealed was just an added bonus.

There was something soothing, almost meditative, in the process of weighing and measuring and mixing, and by the time Douglas turned the sticky dough out onto the floured worktop then he almost didn’t hear Martin enter the kitchen. Martin said something but Douglas didn’t catch it, being too absorbed in frowning at the dough. The mixture didn’t look quite right; it could be that he’d added too much liquid and he reached for the stoneware jar of flour.

Martin came to stand next to him. ‘I said “It’s started”.’

Douglas’ head snapped around in shock. ‘What? Are you sure? It can’t have, not already.’

Martin grinned at him, face alive with mirth, but said only ‘Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you but it has. Definitely.’

He stepped in close to Douglas, who almost reached for him before remembering his sticky hands and holding them out to the side. Martin placed his hands on Douglas’ waist and leaned in far enough for Douglas to nuzzle the side of his neck and inhale. Oh God, Martin was right, but…

‘But I’m making you bread,’ Douglas said. It was the first thing that came into his head, and Martin laughed.

‘Well I’m sure I can cope while you finish what you have to do,’ he said, amused.

‘But you… I…’

In the past Douglas had always dropped everything to take care of Martin the instant his heat started without thinking twice. Martin always seemed so tense when it began, so frantic for Douglas, that it was second nature for Douglas to set aside whatever he was doing to take Martin to bed and strip him bare to gentle him. But this time Martin seemed so calm and self-assured that Douglas wasn’t certain what to make of it.

‘I’ll be _fine_ ,’ Martin said, as Douglas dipped his face to inhale more of his scent. Martin smelled irresistible, and he pressed harder against Douglas as Douglas groaned softly. ‘I’ll just start without you, and you can come and find me when you’re done.’

‘Oh _God_.’ The thought of Martin – naked and touching himself and in heat – was too much, and he almost reached for him when Martin stepped back.

‘Go on,’ Martin said. ‘Finish what you’re doing, and I’ll see you in a bit.’

‘I’ll be quick,’ Douglas promised. Martin’s cheeks were flushed, his mouth slightly open, and Douglas bit his lip. ‘Really.’

‘Alright.’ Martin smiled at him, slow and sensual, before walking off towards the bedroom.

Douglas watched him go, before turning his attention back to the sticky mass on the counter in front of him.

‘Bloody hell,’ he grumbled, dusting more flour over it and starting to work it in.

How bloody _typical_ that, after days of hanging around waiting, things should start at such an inconvenient moment, and he kneaded and worked at the dough until it was done. It wouldn’t be the best he’d ever made but, given the circumstances, he rather felt he ought to be congratulated for managing to make it at all. He covered it and set it to rise and faintly, as he was scrubbing the fragments of dough off his hands, a soft moan drifted down the hall and he gritted his teeth and scrubbed harder.

In the bedroom, Douglas stopped for a moment to take in the sight before him. Martin was stretched out in Douglas’ bed, the covers kicked down around his ankles and his knees spread wide. His eyes were shut as he pulled slowly, lazily, at his cock, and he’d spread a towel underneath him; faintly, as Martin’s hips flexed and shifted, Douglas could see the damp spot on the towel where he’d started to leak.

‘My God, just look at you,’ Douglas breathed and Martin’s eyes fluttered open.

‘Come here,’ he said at once, holding out a hand, and Douglas instantly crossed the room to sit on the edge of the bed and leaned down to kiss him.

‘Hello,’ he murmured against Martin’s mouth, as Martin’s fingers twined around his and clutched tightly.

‘H-hello,’ Martin said, his voice betrayed by the gentle, rhythmic rock of his right arm.

Douglas kissed his cheek, feeling the heat of Martin’s flush through his skin.

‘Take your hand away,’ he said. ‘Let me do that for you.’

Martin groaned a little at that but took his hand away obediently, and Douglas reached down with his free hand to cover Martin’s erection. It was hot and hard against his palm – the skin faintly slick with precome – and Douglas watched Martin’s eyelashes flutter as he stroked him. Douglas touched him until Martin’s hips were starting to rock up against his strokes, before taking his hand away and kissing away Martin’s noise of protest.

‘Let me up a moment,’ he said, loosening his fingers from Martin’s, and when Martin let go he stood up and quickly stripped. Martin watched him greedily, and spread his knees readily when Douglas climbed onto the bed between his legs.

‘Farther,’ Douglas said, nudging gently at Martin’s inner thighs. ‘Let me see you.’

Martin bit his lip but shifted his thighs further apart and Douglas kissed the soft skin approvingly.

‘Yes, that’s it.’

There was a sizeable wet spot on the towel beneath Martin now, and Douglas slid his fingers up between his buttocks to touch the slickness leaking out of him as he dipped his head and licked a stripe along Martin’s cock.

‘ _Oh_.’

One of Martin’s hands settled on his head, the other gathering a fistful of the sheet, and Douglas reached up to loosen Martin’s grip on the sheet and take his hand instead, before dipping his head to pull Martin’s cock into his mouth. Martin inhaled sharply, his knees jerking against Douglas’ ribs, and he moaned loudly when Douglas pushed two fingers into him and started to suck him.

Douglas always loved doing this for Martin – going down on him until he was incoherent with pleasure – but this time he didn’t get very long at all before Martin started to gasp ‘Oh… oh God… oh God…’, his grip tightening on Douglas’ hand in a familiar way before he shuddered and his cock surged in Douglas’ mouth. Douglas swallowed when he came, and kept sucking him until Martin’s heels kicked weakly against the mattress; he eased his fingers out and slid up to press kisses to Martin’s shivery stomach while Martin caught his breath.

‘God, I love doing that to you,’ Douglas growled, working his way up Martin’s stomach while Martin petted his hair. ‘I love being the only one who’s allowed to see you like that.’

‘Of course you are,’ Martin murmured, and Douglas kissed further up Martin’s chest until he reached his nipples – slightly swollen and sensitive from the hormone fluctuations of heat – and covered one with his mouth.

‘Mmm.’ Martin’s hands tightened in his hair. ‘Oh, that’s nice.’ He shifted under Douglas, arching a little, and drew his knees up to squeeze Douglas’ ribs. ‘Come on, fuck me.’

Martin’s eyes were heavy-lidded, when Douglas finally left off teasing his nipples with lips and tongue, and he arched his back as Douglas slid further up his body to push his erection against Martin’s inner thighs.

‘Do it.’ Martin’s heels dug into the backs of Douglas’ thighs. ‘ _Now_.’

‘Alright.’ Douglas took himself in hand and pushed into Martin, echoing Martin’s groan when his body gave and Douglas sank a few inches inside.

He went slowly at first but, once Martin was fully hard again beneath him, he started to thrust more vigorously, encouraged by Martin’s breathless noises and sighs. Martin wrapped his arms and legs around Douglas, and when Martin came then Douglas stayed buried as deeply in him as he could, kissing his face and stroking his hair back off his forehead as Martin’s expression crumpled in ecstasy. It wasn’t long before it was his turn to cry out and Martin held him tightly as his knot swelled, pressing clumsy but heartfelt kisses to his face while Douglas braced himself up on his forearms.

‘Well then,’ he said, once his knot had gone down and he’d slid free of Martin’s body. It didn’t take long: the first knotting of a heat was never a very intense one. ‘Looks like it’s started, then.’

Martin smiled up at him, temporarily sated. ‘Looks like it has.’

***

At first things progressed as normal. They lazed about in bed, with Douglas bringing Martin food in between naps and sessions of lovemaking that were by turns frenzied and rushed, and slow and languorous. When Martin was sated but not sleepy then Douglas would read aloud to him, Martin’s head on his chest and Douglas’ hand buried in his hair, while Douglas’ attention was divided equally between the words on the page and the pheromone-rich smell of Martin in heat.

It took until midday of the second day for Douglas to admit that, actually, things weren’t _quite_ as normal. Usually Martin would get more desperate as heat progressed, but this time he seemed oddly relaxed about it all. He was still eager for Douglas touch, but instead of being in such a _hurry_ he was apparently more content to relax and take things at a slower, more sensual pace. He gave himself over to his body’s demands willingly, sinking into the experience like someone having a warm bath after a long, cold day, and Douglas found himself unwittingly infected by Martin’s attitude.

He brought the punnet of strawberries to where Martin was lingering in bed, but he also paused a moment to microwave a small bowl of dark chocolate. It was a perfect idea: he fed Martin strawberries twirled in the chocolate, trailing them across his collarbones and nipples and cleaning the trails of juice with his tongue. When he finally pushed inside Martin Douglas found that he couldn’t stop kissing him as he fucked him, his lips soft and sweet with juice.

The weather outside was gorgeous and, for no other reason than to make Martin smile, Douglas flung wide curtains and window and dragged the bed over so that the sunlight would fall across Martin’s bare skin. Martin stretched like a contented cat in the warm sunshine, and it had the delightful side-effect of making Martin clutch Douglas tightly the next time Douglas fucked him, pressing his open mouth to Douglas’ shoulder to stifle his pleasure-noises given the open window right next to him.

Martin was more joyful about it this time, nothing like his slightly frantic manner of the previous two times. After taking Martin to bed for the first time in his heat, Douglas got up for a quick glass of water to find that the bread – that he’d completely forgotten about, given the circumstances – had risen spectacularly and overflowed its container. Martin came to look for him after a while but, instead of being quietly tense and fidgety at the delay, Martin found Douglas wearing only his boxers and trying to wrestle the dough back into its bowl, and he laughed so hard he had to hang onto the doorframe for support.

True, Douglas found the change in Martin to be slightly unnerving at first, given that it was so very different to what he’d been used to previously. Bu Martin seemed so blissfully happy that Douglas wouldn’t have dreamed of protesting, and once his initial sense of being wrong-footed faded then he found that, actually, he rather loved it.

On the final evening they lay tangled in bed together, just talking. Previously, at the end of his heat, Martin had worked himself into a frantic, half-miserable state of exhaustion but would still be demanding more as soon as one round had finished, however this time he was content to twine himself around Douglas in a fit of post-coital lassitude. Douglas felt utterly surrounded by Martin’s touch and smell; he almost didn’t want this heat to end even as he knew that they couldn’t possibly linger in this peaceful, hormone-drenched haze indefinitely and he carded his fingers through Martin’s hair while Martin’s fingertips traced abstract patterns on his stomach. Martin’s movements grew slower and more erratic and, when his hand finally stilled and he sighed out a deep breath against Douglas’ shoulder, Douglas gently pulled the duvet up over him and closed his eyes.

The next morning Douglas awoke to find that it was over: Martin’s scent had changed and he was wrapped up in the duvet, his slightly higher temperature of the past few days reverting back to his usual one. He stayed still and quiet as he could, content with the weight of Martin’s head on his shoulder and Martin’s arm flung across his chest, but eventually Martin stirred against him.

‘Morning,’ Douglas said softly, winding his fingers through Martin’s hair.

‘Morning,’ Martin mumbled, and rubbed his face against Douglas’ shoulder.

‘How are you feeling?’ Douglas asked.

‘Lovely.’ Martin smiled widely, his eyes still closed. ‘Oh, that was such a wonderful few days.’

‘I know,’ Douglas murmured. ‘You were different; I’ve never seen you so relaxed during heat.’

‘Mmm.’ Martin sighed out a long breath, sounding more awake by the second. ‘I don’t know what it was, I just… it felt different, this time. Oh, I could have gone on for two more days like that, easily.’

He nuzzled closer to Douglas, who squeezed Martin’s shoulder in a one-armed hug.

‘Well, there’s always next time,’ he said, and Martin made a contented noise of agreement.

Douglas was already keenly anticipating Martin’s next heat; judging from the way Martin gave a little moan of sensual bliss as Douglas started to rub at his neck, he began to think that Martin, rather than approaching heat with a mixture of nervousness and anticipation, might actually begin to look forward to it as something to be slowly savoured.

 

**End**


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